


Thrown to the Wolves

by myriadofnothing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Sex, Biting, Bondage, Collars, Cuddling, Fingerfucking, Humiliation, Leashes, Loss of Virginity, Multi, Oral Sex, Pegging, Sexual Slavery, Spanking, slave!Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-14 16:11:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myriadofnothing/pseuds/myriadofnothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slave AU - The Hale pack buys a human slave to take care of their needs, but Derek wants the boy for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Underage explanation: By the time Stiles goes through pre-story events and gets to the point where we begin, he is 18.

The lights go out.  People scream.  Amidst the chaos when the lights return, no one hears the sheriff shouting.  "Where's my son?  Where's my son?"

 

* * *

 

The auditorium house lights are down, the stage lit up. A solo violin announces the next lot, quieting the crowd's murmurs. A handler in all black, and black mask and gloves, leads a teenage boy in on a fifteen foot leash.  The teenager wears short, tight boyshorts, glitter and smokey eye makeup. Wide cuffs hold his wrists together behind his back. His steel collar is too loose, laying on his collarbones.

He glances out into the darkness-hidden crowd, then rubbernecks and trips over his own feet. The handler waves a long, stiff whip to refocus him, trying to get him to center stage smoothly. Small gestures are supposed to cue the teenager to turn, pose, and flex, but the slave is distracted and responds sluggishly.

The wide-eyed innocence must be charming, because he sells for a good price.

 

* * *

 

“And clean that shit off his face,” Derek says.

“No leave it, it's cute,” Peter corrects with a mean smile.

The auction assistant looks between them. Derek looks away moodily and Peter gestures, meaning she should follow his own instructions.

They sit and wait, Derek's silence testy and Peter's amused, until their acquisition arrives. Close up and under the florescent lights, the slave's getup is both more ridiculous and more alluring. He is pale and lean muscled and nervously still, looking exactly like he'd been in physical and mental training, indoors, at the slave house for nearly a year.

Derek fetches the leash and hands it to Peter, who reels it in. When the teenager has haltingly walked so close as to be between Peter's feet, Peter says, “Knees.” He goes down, managing mild grace with his arms bound behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter goes for his belt buckle.

“Peter...” Derek warns.

“Going to tell Daddy on me? You know Harvey doesn't want him for himself, I'll end up getting first dibs anyway.” Derek's jaw muscle twitches. “Besides,” Peter says, stretching his legs languidly to further cage the teenager in, “I have to inspect the merchandise.”

“Inspect with your eyes, not your dick.”

“Ugh, no fun.” He cups the slave's jaw and tips his head up and side to side. “Open.”

Derek retakes his seat next to Peter, not wanting to miss anything.

Peter pulls back his lips, checks his gums and teeth, then rubs his thumb over the plumpness of the tongue. The slave slowly looks up from under mascaraed lashes. He makes eye contact, closes his lips, wraps his tongue around the digit, and sucks. Peter bursts out a delighted laugh.

 

* * *

 

“Go on,” Peter says, “'Inspect' him for yourself.” He pushes the slave to the side.

The slave hesitates, not quite looking to Derek's face, then averting his eyes.

“Come here,” Derek orders. He scrambles over, awkward on his knees without his hands, only needing a clear instruction to obey.

Derek attempts to mimic Peter's attention to slave's mouth health, but the slave looks up at him with big, eager eyes, and Derek stares back into them instead. He is handsome underneath the makeup and the impersonal, shorn haircut. Derek pushes his thumb deep into the warm mouth. The slave's tongue strokes underneath, then curls sides around it. He sucks in brief pulses, more like he's pleasing himself with the ministrations than emulating fellatio.

“What's your name?” Derek asks.

The teenager pulls back, then nuzzles against Derek's hand. The wet thumb trails along his cheek. “Evan,” he says quietly.

_Lup-dub, lup-dub._

Derek slaps him. “Lie,” he says evenly. “What's your name?”

“Whoa, whoa! And you were worried about me touching him!” Peter interjects, but he stares intently too, wondering why their new slave is lying to them.

“It's Evan, I sw-”

Derek slaps him again, harder. “I can tell you're lying. Tell me your name.”

“Stiles,” he whispers.

Derek draws for another hit, but the teenager's heart doesn't skip. That's really his name.

“What's it short for?”

“It's not-”

“What,” Derek grounds out, “Is it short for?”

“Stilinski.”

Derek and Peter look at each other.

“As in, Sheriff Stilinski?” Peter suggests.

“Leave him out of this,” Stiles says, an edge in his voice, his coy slave demeanor vanished.


	3. Chapter 3

Peter takes Stiles by the back of the neck and pushes his face to the floor. Working in odd concert, Peter removes his grip and Derek replaces it with his foot. The message is clear: Stiles is in no position to be making demands.

Peter wanders over to the shelves opposite, Derek turning Stiles' head so he can watch. Peter theatrically considers a cane, the only instrument of punishment provided, then selects a gag, spreader bar, nitrile gloves, then “forgets” and remembers to take lube.

While Derek helps him affix the equipment, they hold a silent conversation over their slave's head. Derek's raised eyebrows say, 'What are you doing?' and Peter's condescending expression in response says, 'Trust me, I've got this.'

Out loud Peter muses, “Just continuing my inspection,” with a smirk.

They bend Stiles over the back of the couch, Derek taking a seat and holding him stretched over the too-tall top. Peter strolls behind him, snaps on the gloves, and pulls his boyshorts down over the curve of his ass.

Stiles glares at the mid-distance, his eyes shining with (yet) unshed tears and defiance. Derek wants to assure him they want nothing to do with the sheriff, but he can't speak for his father, the alpha. The politics between the werewolf packs and the human bastions are delicate and hostile. Flaunting a valuable hostage might be exactly what they're going to do.

Gently but without preamble, Peter thrusts two lubed fingers into Stiles' ass. “I thought you'd have learned by now to watch your tone.”

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut. A pair of tears fall out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the short chapters with cliffhangers, I always feel like I have to publish immediately once it feels right, otherwise I'll change my mind or keep going back and editing.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles' back arches up protectively. Peter just presses into the small of his back and pulls him back onto his hand. He switches to three fingers and probes deeply, forcing a muffled sob from Stiles before he can stop himself.

Tears flow more freely now, turning his charcoal makeup into watercolor. Stiles sags into the couch. His sobs quiet into dry, tight breaths. His head hangs and he stops tensing when Peter twists his fingers cruelly. He just takes it.

“There we go,” Peter says, pleased. As soon as he steps aside, snapping off the gloves, Derek shoulders in to take his place.

The slave is spread out like a buffet in front of him, anything for his choosing. Well, not yet. But soon. Derek experimentally slides two fingers into the slick hole just peaking out from between two ivory cheeks. It's soft textured and strong muscled, smooth with lube though still clinging around his knuckles. He cannot wait to get his dick inside this slave.

“How did you do that? Get him to submit so quickly?” Derek asks, trying not to sound too impressed.

Peter shrugs and smiles, self-satisfied. He's not going to share his tricks with Derek just yet.

“Look,” Derek starts, unsure. “I don't want Dad taking this slave and using him as bait. I want him mine.” The word 'mine' echoes with a tinge of a growl. “Let's,” he hesitates, “Let's keep this sheriff thing under wraps for now.” He can feel Stiles twitch; he realizes his fingers are still inside the teenager.

“Mmm, but what do I get out of it, if he's 'yours?'” Peter says, sarcastic infliction on the last word.

“Ours.” Derek corrects reluctantly.

Peter looks intrigued but unconvinced.

“Stiles,” Derek orders, yanking at the buckles of the gag, “Tell him what he'll get.”

“Please, anything,” the slave's voice is phlegmy from crying, “Everything, just don't tell, please.”

“'Everything' is a tall order, Stiles,” Peter says, low and serious. He takes a seat on the couch next to where Stiles is still bent over it, and wraps long fingers around Stiles' chin.

“I-I know,” he says, voice shaking, “but I will. Everything you want.”

Peter leans in and kisses him, biting hard at his lips and the offered tongue. “Then how can I refuse?”

An angry jealously begins to uncurl in Derek's gut.


	5. Chapter 5

They clean up their new slave, switch his hands to his front, and pile into Derek's Camero for the long trip back to Beacon Hills.

 

* * *

 

Stiles kneels on the red carpet in an old fashioned study, flanked by the legs of his masters.

"Yes fine, as long as you like him." The alpha says distractedly. "Go show him to Laura," and waves them out.

Once they are out and the door is closed, his masters share a relieved, conspiratorial smile.

"That was easy."

"As I said..."

They hustle him down the hallway, past the top of the stairs, to a young woman's room. A hand on each shoulder push him down to kneel. The carpet in here is beige.

"Oh!" Laura coos. "What did you do to the poor thing? Come here, you." Stiles glances up, confused. "Come here." It's a short distance to where she sits at her desk, so he crawls. "Aw he's adorable." She wipes at his cheeks with a tissue and it comes up gray with his smeared makeup. "What a doll. You two are just going to ruin him, aren't you." The warm feeling that had been growing in Stiles' chest at her kind attention runs cold.

"No," Derek says, behind him.

"Just a little," says Peter.

"Up, stand up," Laura says. "Let's see it." She waves at his crotch. Stiles peels his shorts down and flinches when she immediately grabs his balls and rolls her palm over them. "Ooh silky smooth. The hair removal's not permanent, is it?"

"No, he's just shaved and waxed."

"And made up and glittered," Laura adds, feeling his cock with two fingers.

"I thought you'd like that," Peter says.

"Yes, I might just play dress up with him!"

"Anyway," Peter drawls, "If you're done looking, he and I have some business to attend to."

"Business or pleasure?" Laura shoots back good humoredly.

"Ha, well I suppose that's up to how well-behaved he is." Peter says. Stiles' guts flip. He doesn't want to go with Peter, he wants to stay here and try on lip gloss with Laura.

"Stiles, come."

 

* * *

 

Derek is still hovering when they get to Peter's bedroom, and Peter shuts the door on him.

"Now... Look at me. Always look at me. Yes. Knees." Stiles kneels. "Yes. Sit." A bit slower to conform to the less usual order, Stiles puts his butt on the floor. "Yes. Roll over." Seeing what Peter is getting at, Stiles scowls but lays back and rolls 360 degrees.

Peter appears over him. "No, bad!" and slaps him in the face. Although much lighter than Derek's earlier hits, it startles him wide-eyed. "Again, without the attitude." Stiles obeys, humiliation burning in his gut. "Yes. Knees. Stay."

They go through come, play dead, beg, and other tricks. By the time Peter calls an end, Stiles is hot with embarrassment and stress. Each trick didn't just have to be completed, it had to be performed with the proper enthusiasm. And Stiles was a terrible actor; he got smacked upside the head, in the face, and on the ass about as much as he was told 'yes!'

"Yes, good boy, Stiles." Peter says after he's satisfactorily bowed with his ass in the air and arms stretched out on the floor. "Come get your treat."


	6. Chapter 6

This is more familiar territory: bent over the bed, a finger in his ass. He lets himself relax, lowering his head to his still-locked hands. If only he could get Peter to stick to this and not play kinky power games. Stiles spreads his feet a few inches more and arches his back to provide a pleasing view. He's not sure if Peter wants him to make noise too, so when Peter thrusts in with his cock, Stiles experiments with a breathy 'unh.'

"Shh..." Peter says, and pushes his face into the covers to muffle him.

Well, there's that answer.

He wishes Peter's dick in his ass didn't feel so good. It conflicts him. It distracts him from his game face, where he's supposed to be thinking about his master's pleasure and not his own.  Peter doesn't take too long, which is good, but he comes in Stiles' ass, which he's not too sure about. They always used dildos during training. Peter popped his ass cherry, technically, he realizes belatedly.

Peter climbs onto the bed and flops over.

"Out," he says.

Stiles tries to mind-over-matter away his post-sex nausea.

 

* * *

 

In the foyer he stumbles into a solid shadow. The shadow reaches out and catches him when he rebounds- it's Derek. It's been a long day and Stiles really just wants to sleep, not take care of his other master right now. Sleep and maybe take a cold shower to quench his remaining arousal from Peter's fuck.

Derek pulls him across to the bathroom without so much as a 'hello.' He unlocks Stiles' wrists while the shower warms, then shoves his slave in. Stiles wishes Derek would say something, the intense silence makes him want to fill it up with words.

"Can I sleep next, sir?" he tries.

"Yes, with me."

Er, is that sleep euphemistically or literally? He fights himself not to question Derek. It doesn't even matter, he'll end up doing whichever Derek wants anyway.

Derek hands him a fresh washcloth and points out which body wash to use. "Clean your face... just... clean everywhere," he instructs.

Once clean, Stiles dogs Derek through the house, naked except for his bonds.  They go upstairs to Derek's room. It's cramped and full of _stuff_ , relics from a teenage boyhood: posters, CDs, figurines, clothes, a nerf basketball hoop. Dark curtains swathe the windows.

Derek strips off his jeans and crawls into bed, beckoning for his slave with both hands. Stiles slips in after him and is promptly flipped around so they're back-to-front. There is definitely an erection present. After several tense minutes of waiting, nothing happening but the twitch of Derek's cock, Stiles concludes he is being cuddled.

They sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Stiles-hurting incoming, don't get too comfortable ;)


	7. Chapter 7

After the family has breakfast the next morning, Stiles gets to eat the leftovers at the kitchen counter.

Laura pokes her head in. "Hey come on, it's our turn for sexytime." Stiles shoves the last two pancakes in his mouth and puts his plate away. Laura bounds out and up the stairs like it's a race. He forces down his mouthful and tries to keep up.

Her room is bigger and brighter than Derek's. Three desks line the walls, with one computer and the others with a ton of books and notebooks and binders and folders. On her bed, a box left out catch his attention. It's is filled with dildos and related items. A towel is spread out next to it and a strap-on harness is already set out.

His heart falls; he thought he'd get to loose his penis-in-vagina virginity.

"Oh my god you smell like Derek, are those his clothes?" She has him throw the clothes Derek gave him earlier out into the hall. "No you still smell like him. It's okay, I guess. I have to get used to you smelling like the boys if we're sharing you."

"Sorry ma'am," he offers lamely.

"I was thinking 'mistress.'"

"Mistress," he corrects.

"Ooh," she gives a pretend shiver and grins. "I like it. Up on the bed, on your back. Lube's right there, get yourself ready and get hard." She sits on the end of the bed, and Stiles is suddenly shy at how intensely she stares.

He wiggles a slippery finger into his ass and quickly goes on to two. He tries to find his prostate to help his dick along, but he can't reach or the angle is wrong or something. His eyes close briefly and he thinks of the last half of his encounter with Peter. If he swaps out Peter with an imaginary boyfriend, it's fairly pleasant. He uses a touch of lube for the right amount of friction and slip, and squeezes and pulls himself to hardness.

Laura affixes her harness with a modest sized dildo. "Ready? You look ready."

"Yes, mistress," he breathes, and he kind of likes 'mistress' too. His dick twitches feebly.

She has him hold his legs up by the knees and settles between his thighs. Stiles cranes to see her press the dildo to his pucker but soon gives up and flops back. The tip breaches him slowly and he gives a pleased, "oh!" to encourage her.

"You like that?"

"Yes mistress."

"Mm," she agrees. She thrusts awkwardly, getting the hang of the angle and movement. It's not long before Stiles is moaning for real, the dildo able to find his prostate when his fingers couldn't. Too soon, Laura pulls out. Stiles gasps as the bulbed head catches, then pops through his ring of muscle.

"Wha-" he begins before he catches himself.

Laura rummages and pulls out a much larger dildo. Stiles groans quietly in his throat, but she can hear him and chuckles while she switches it onto her harness. He wipes off his newly sweaty palms and gets a better grip under his knees. Laura sets herself back in position.

"More lube for this one?"

"Yes please, mistress, thank you."

She applies a thick coat of lube to the dildo daintily, smearing it all over with one finger, then presses the new rubber cock into him. Stiles gapes because it burns, but he reminds himself this is nothing new. She circles her hips with it shallowly lodged in him, creating a weird sensation of uncomfortable pleasure.

She pushes farther in, the thick cock rubbing along the right spot. Stiles makes an embarrassing 'ah- ung!' noise as his own cock jumps. When she starts thrusting, he gropes for the base of his dick and holds on to keep her from forcing an orgasm out of him.

"Go on," Laura says breathlessly. "Come for me."

He does and gets impressive range, his spunk hitting him under the chin. She keep fucking him until he's squirming with oversensitivity. She pushes in deep one last time, then relents.

"That was hot," she sighs. "How long til you can get it up again?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the mary-sue isn't too bad :$
> 
> (okay I take it back! not a mary-sue! :P)


	8. Chapter 8

Derek paces around the yard for an hour until he hears the clicks of Laura's door opening and shutting. He slips inside and upstairs where he waits and watches Stiles redress himself in Derek's too-big undershirt and boxers. The _want_ in his gut flares up.

"Stiles," he says, startling the teenager with his presence.

"Yes, sir?"

Derek walks up to him. Stiles smells like sex. Derek takes him by the jaw and tilts his head. There's still a fleck of Stiles' come on the side of his neck, hidden behind a long tendon. He wipes it off and presses his finger to Stiles' mouth. Stiles lips at it, tantalizingly licking the spunk away. He bends his knees and sinks slowly until Derek releases his jaw and he can go to the floor. He looks up hopefully, mouth parted and tongue ready and wet inside.

"Oh my god," Derek groans. Taking Stiles by the upper arm, Derek pushes him across the stairs and into his room. He locks his door behind them. "Finally." He tosses Stiles to sprawl face down on the bed and strips his borrowed boxers down to the teenager's knees. Derek presses a kiss to one cheek, spreads them, then stops.

Stiles' hole is puffy and loose and sopping with lube. "Dammit Laura," Derek swears. Fuck him anyway? Let him rest? "Are you sore?" He brushes a finger over the orifice.

"No sir," Stiles says.

Derek isn't sure whether to be angry about the lie or not, since it was for his benefit. "I can tell when you're lying, you know."

"Yessir," Stiles says carefully. "It's sore but I can take more."

Oddly grateful for Stiles' go-ahead, Derek slides a finger inside and presses down.

The whine Stiles makes is music to Derek's ears, so he does it again, circling around his prostate. Stiles holds out for four seconds before he can't take it and starts wiggling and grinding into the bed. Derek pulls out and uses both hands to hold the delicious cheeks in front of him open. He nips one and then another, earning two flinches from Stiles and leaving behind red teeth imprints.

He rubs his nose up along the teenager's crack, breathing inward in short bursts to scent him. His tongue follow the same path, licking along a precise path like he's going to wash off the smell of the rubber toys. Stiles pants quietly into the bedspread, the otherwise imperceptible hitches and whines loud in Derek's head.

Derek abruptly sits up and yanks his jeans open. With Stiles flat on the bed, legs trapped in the half-removed boxers, Derek presses along his back and blindly humps his cock down the slippery valley of his ass. When catches on the loose rim Derek thrusts forward. Stiles tenses then chokes on a gasping breath.

Derek ruts into him hard, uncontrolled. Stiles yelps and cries, bites his lip to silence himself but can't keep quiet for long. When his orgasm feels imminent, Derek slows himself to long, rolling thrusts, trying to prolong their union.

"Fuck," Derek says, he can't keep back. He speeds up, punching his hips even harder than before, and pulls Stiles close by the hips. Clamping his teeth onto the back of Stiles' neck, he comes as deep inside him as he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little more sure where we're going now, but still taking suggestions especially for sex scenes. :) There is a Peter/Stiles scene incoming, then a Derek/Stiles scene where Stiles is punished (probably spanked :D)


	9. Chapter 9

Enunciating clearly, Peter repeats, "You can't just mark him."

"Well as long as we're telling each other what to do with him, stop binding his hands. Where do you think he's going?"

"Apples and oranges," Peter drawls. "All you have to do is unlock them. I can't take this bite mark off, I have to look at it all day."

"Hardly! He's stiff in his shoulders after you contort him all over with his hands behind him!"

Peter ignores him. "Don't give him your clothes to wear. He even smells like your soap, it's disgusting."

Derek has no answer, instead reaching angrily for Stiles and jerking him around to release his hands. Stiles sidles away so he's not between the two werewolves.

"I'll take this to Harvey if you won't listen to reason." Peter says.

"Who do you think he'll side with?" Derek challenges.

"Well," Peter sighs like he's giving up. "Fucking a slave that for all sights and smells is claimed by my _nephew_ is no fun. I might as well not fuck him at all." Derek looks skeptically pleased. "Might as well tell Harvey-" Peter examines his fingernails, "-who our boy really is."

Stiles' heart goes into overdrive. Derek snarls.

"Fine," Derek snaps and stalks out of the dining room.

Stiles walks toward Peter with his eyes down. He turns around and holds his hands behind him for Peter to re-bind: a peace offering. Peter does, because he likes the teenager like that.

“Sir, please don't tell,” Stiles entreats quietly.

Peter presses up against Stiles from behind, taking a moment to rip Derek's shirt off of him, then stroking softly along his sides and belly. Stiles turns his head demurely and Peter takes the bait, leaning around to kiss at his mouth.

Stiles kisses back enthusiastically, wanting to be on Peter's good side, shimmying back into Peter's growing hardon.

"Knees," Peter orders, turning a chair to sit in. Stiles goes down and knee-walks as gracefully as he can into position. Overeager to prove himself, he tries to open Peter's trousers with his tongue and teeth. Peter isn't impressed and pushes him away to pull out his half-hard cock. He holds it out for the teenager to take into his mouth.

Stiles suck at it as hard as he can, bobs his head frenetically until a hand on the back of his head adjusts him to a slower and more languid pace.

"There," Peter says, "Slow and steady wins the race."

Stiles works his tongue and lips until his jaw starts to ache.

“Don't let Derek mark you,” Peter begins, breaking the slurping and wet-flesh filled silence. “You have your own room in the attic; sleep there. There are clothes and things for you in there.”

Stiles hums his acknowledgment with his mouth full. He doesn't know how he's going to make Derek do or not do anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did Peter just give Stiles an impossible command to follow? Whoops...


	10. Chapter 10

After lunch, Stiles finds the stairs to the attic. It's a long, finished room with a twin bed, chest and dresser. The sloping walls are painted white-lavender. There's an old fashioned writing desk and in front of it a small window. Stiles gapes. It's not a slave cell, it's a sanctuary.

The dresser contains mostly thin, clingy sweatpants and ribbed tank tops so he dresses in the and curls up on the bed. With the pillow tight in his arms instead of under his head, he dozes.

 

* * *

 

An empty stomach and a sudden fear that he's supposed to be doing something or someone propels him out of bed. Still sleep addled, he makes his way down the two sets of stairs and stumbles into the dining room.  The family is sitting around the table eating. Stiles cringes at his bursting entrance and sets himself into the corner. He begs his stomach not to rumble but it does anyway; the pasta and red sauce on the table smells awesome.

Stiles feels Derek staring at him throughout dinner. Derek excuses himself early and takes Stiles with him, pulling him along with a soft grasp on his forearm. Stiles takes one last longing breath of the smells of the dining room and follows.

Derek closes them in his cave-like room and gently pulls Stiles up against him for a kiss. Lulled by the lack of rough handling, Stiles lets himself melt into the kiss. He hesitantly brushes his hands to Derek's sides, growing bolder when the touch is allowed and unbuttoning Derek's jeans. Derek makes a pleased 'mm' as Stiles plays with him through his boxers.

Derek guides him backwards and lowers him onto the bed.

“Hold on,” Derek murmurs and backtracks to the stereo to turn on some lulling alternative rock. He climbs back on top Stiles and they kiss, hands all over each other, clothing slowly discarded. It feels like deja vu, because this is what he thought his late teens would be like, and it aches to think about so he focuses on his master instead.

Derek urges him to turn over and rummages behind him for what turns out to be lube. He slicks himself and pushes a fingertip in perfunctorily before replacing it with his cock and pushing slowly in.

“Mm,” Stiles hums while Derek suppresses a groan. Derek fucks him more leisurely than he had yesterday, which Stiles can appreciate because he's still feeling well-used back there. Derek leans forward, draping himself over Stiles' back.  His weight presses Stiles down off his elbows and into the mattress. Derek starts lipping at the vertebrae at the top of Stiles' spine. Alarm bells in his mind go off.

Wet, hard teeth tickle up the back of his neck.

“No don't,” he says over his shoulder. When teeth press down into his skin he starts to struggle. “Don't- Peter will-”

“Shut up,” Derek growls into his skin, stilling his rocking hips. “Stop moving.” Stiles disobeys, trying to shake and shrug the teeth off of him.

Derek sighs a growly sigh and sits up. Stiles has only half a second to be relieved before Derek drags him over his lap. One immoveable hand presses down between his shoulder blades, the other strikes his upturned ass. Stiles yelps in surprise.

“Bad Stiles,” Derek says like he's disciplining a dog and hits him several more times.

“I can't- Peter will-”

“Peter's not here right now,” Derek snaps and cracks a hand on the back of his thighs and the curving flesh there.

“Will tell- and-”

“Shut your mouth,” Derek orders, giving him three accompanying slaps.

“Everybody- will-”

Derek spanks him hard enough that his words turn into a clipped wail and he finally stops talking. Derek continues with several hard hits for good measure.

“Are you done?”

Stiles nods.

Derek shoves him off his lap and knees his red thighs until Stiles gets his ass in the air. Derek mounts him again, pushing balls deep in one rough thrust, and returns his teeth to the back of his neck. He bites down savagely with human teeth.

Stiles chokes on his sobs into the bedding.


End file.
